Desperately Seeking Scully
by Evangeline Henri
Summary: A Scully-less day for Mulder. MSR (Written as a respite from the eighth season; takes place in the seventh.)


Title: Desperately Seeking Scully (1/1)  
Author: Evangeline Henri  
Category: SRA  
Keyword: Mulder/Scully romance  
Rating: PG-13 for some cursing here and there  
Summary: A Scully-less day for Mulder.  
Spoilers: Pilot, Fire, Little Green Men, 3, War of the   
Cophorages, Never Again, The Beginning, Biogenesis. Basically,   
it takes place in the seventh season, so anything that's   
happened up to there is fair game.   
Dedication: This one goes out to Atalanta (AKA Dana, Hawkeye   
Pierce), who, in addition to listening to my random rants on   
'The X-Files', the public school system, and life in general   
came up with the title, and took me into the Village where I got   
my X-Files action figures and lunch box. You're the best!  
Disclaimer: Hmmmmm.... checking tags on Mulder, Scully, and   
co. Just as I suspected. Nope, these characters are most   
certainly not mine. They belong to Chris Carter and the folks   
at 1013 Productions and the Fox Network. I promise to be   
careful and won't drop them. I'll put them back where I found   
them when I'm through with them. Honest!  
Author's Note: By far, my most ambitious work to date, I would   
reeeaaaally appreciate feedback. Tell me what you think at   
LHenry0122@aol.com  
  
A break from all the really depressing (Mulderless)   
subplots of the eighth season... no Dogget here!  
  
*****  
  
FBI Headquarters  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
X-Files office  
9:07 a.m.   
I walked into the office this morning in a surprisingly good   
mood, a welcome change from my usual Monday attitude. I don't   
really know what it was that made me so chipper, perhaps the   
gorgeous May morning outside or the impossible-to-ignore hint of   
springtime romance in the air. Whatever it was, it had gotten   
me so giddy I began whistling "Whistle While you Work" as I   
opened the door to my office.   
  
I walked over to my desk, noticing Scully's absence. This   
didn't strike me as extraordinarily odd, though; she was often   
held up by traffic from Georgetown. I just assumed this was one   
of those mornings.  
  
I sat down at my desk, and opened up the case file we had just   
been investigating. It was a grisly homicide, the murder of a   
young man in Cincinnati. The local PD had absolutely no leads   
or suspects, so they called us in. That just pisses me off.   
It's as if they say,   
"Hey, this is a nowhere investigation, but since we can't find   
any clues, let's call in Mr. and Mrs. Spooky; they have nothing   
worthwhile to do." However, this case actually did turn out to   
be an X-File. Although I strongly believed (still do) that the   
victim was hexed, lack of credible information doomed this case,   
like so many others we've investigated, to go unsolved. The   
only things left were the closing notes and final report, so I   
decided to work on my notes before she arrived, after which we   
could do the report together.  
  
  
9:34 a.m.   
No sign of Scully. This was a tad unsettling. I was still   
working on my notes, but I stopped to try to reach her on her   
cell phone. No answer. "But Scully always answers her cell   
phone!" A paranoid voice in my mind yelled. I tried to dismiss   
it, and just left her a slightly nervous message. I still   
couldn't help feeling that something wasn't right, though.   
Hoping that the Georgetown rush hour traffic was especially   
brutal today, I warily went back to work.  
  
  
10:01 a.m.   
"Where the hell is she?" I yelled aloud. Scully was never,   
never, never this late! Oh God, what if something happened to   
her? I'd never forgive myself!   
  
By this time, I had dismissed the "late because of traffic   
theory." It is physically impossible for traffic from   
Georgetown to Washington, D.C. to hold anyone up this much. No,   
Scully would never be this late simply from a traffic jam.   
Something must have happened.   
  
I called her house, trying not to think of what the implications   
would be if she didn't pick up. I was shaking, but I   
desperately forced my nervous fingers to dial the number.   
"Ring!" Come on Scully! "Ring!" Pick up! Please Scully!   
"Ring!" Please! "Hello, you've reached Dana Sc..." I hung up.   
Damn! I was going insane with worry. An hour late! A whole   
hour! This from Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully, the queen   
of punctuality! No, something must be wrong. Very, very wrong.   
  
I started calling everyone I knew who might have a clue where   
she was. Skinner, her mother, even the Lone Gunmen had no idea.   
I had them all on the lookout for her, with instructions to call   
me if she showed up.  
  
There was only one thing left to do: go out searching for   
Scully. Hastily, I scrawled a message, and left it on her desk   
in case she came in. Grabbing my cell phone, I ran out, not   
caring that I had left a half-finished bag of sunflower seeds   
and the case file spread out on my desk.  
  
  
10:10 a.m.  
Pennsylvania Ave.  
In my car, I paused, not really knowing where to look. My gut   
instinct was her place, but I pushed it aside, having already   
called there. I began making a mental list of all the places to   
check. The Reflecting Pool, the Lone Gunmen's office (maybe she   
was there and Frohike opted not to tell me), and (I shuddered)   
the hospital crossed my mind. All of these were possible, so I   
decided to try each.  
  
  
The Reflecting Pool  
10:15 a.m.  
As I walked, my heart became heavier and heavier. My eyes   
scoured the crowd, yet I saw no scarlet hair, no sparkling blue   
eyes that could betray my partner from a mile away. I slowed,   
nearing a bench. Our bench. Fighting the tourist-laden groups   
of people who obstructed my view of it, I strained to catch a   
glimpse. Finally, the throng of people passed, and I was faced   
with... nothing but another empty bench.  
  
Numbly, I sat down. It was windy out, and in my rush I had   
forgotten a coat. I shivered. "Hadn't this day started out   
warm?" I wondered. Perhaps it was the absence of Scully that   
had made it so cold.  
  
I put my hand where she had sat that day, trying to gather some   
of her warmth but finding none. That was the day she had said,   
"I'd consider it more than a professional loss if you left."  
  
More than a professional loss. "Ha," I thought. "That's quite   
an understatement." Look at me. Whenever she's not with me, I   
fall apart. She's been gone an hour and a half, and already I'm   
one step away from calling the National Guard.  
  
Sighing, I scanned the faces of everyone nearby once again,   
hoping that she might have snuck up on me unnoticed. Seeing   
nothing but blank looks, I slowly headed back to my car.   
"Scully," I muttered, "Where are you?"  
  
  
11:10 a.m.  
Office of the Lone Gunmen  
I parked my car outside the Lone Gunmen's extremely nondescript   
office. I wasn't worried about arriving unannounced; they had   
probably known I was coming as soon as I pulled up the street.   
I jogged up the stairs, and hammered impatiently on the door.  
  
"Frohike? Byers? Langly?" I yelled. "Scullllleeeeeee!"  
  
The door swung open, and I was faced with a startled Byers.  
  
"Mulder, man, are you all right?" He asked, concerned.  
  
I pushed past him into the office. "Is she here?"  
  
By now both Langly and Frohike had also noticed my presence, and   
looked up from whatever they had been typing.  
  
"Is Scully here?" I repeated, although I could tell she most   
likely wasn't. Still, I spun around, hoping to find her. All I   
saw were two large television sets, four computers, some shelves   
holding unidentifiable scientific tools, and a collection of   
movies I would deny ownership of (although I had lent the Gunmen   
several of them). The usual gunmen paraphernalia, but no FBI   
agent.  
  
"We told you, we haven't seen here," Frohike said.   
  
"Yeah, dude, you have to calm down," Langly added. "We'll let   
you know if we hear from her."  
  
"I have to find her," I said staunchly. "What if she's hurt, or   
in trouble, or..."  
  
"What if she went back to Las Vegas to marry Harrison Ford?"   
Frohike quipped.  
  
I glared at him.  
  
"Mulder, Scully's a highly trained federal agent with an   
excellent field record. She's a big girl; she can take care of   
herself. You should know that, I mean she's saved your butt   
several times. I'm sure whatever happened, she can handle it,"   
Byers reasoned.  
  
I was well past hearing his logic, though. I muttered a good-  
bye, and started towards the door. As I left, I heard Langly   
say, "I hope he finds her. Normally, he's weird, but this is   
just sad." The others nodded.  
  
11:30 a.m.  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
X-Files office  
Dreading any visit to the hospital, I returned to the office,   
hoping to find Scully at her desk, ready with a lengthy lecture   
on overprotective, worrying partners. As I stood in the   
elevator, I tried to imagine in. She'd be in her chair, dress   
coat off, mug of coffee in one hand. She'd give me that   
adorably exasperated look I see quite frequently, and sigh. And   
all through her speech, I would try to seem repentant, while   
secretly admiring her baby-blue eyes, her cute little nose, and   
her pouty lips.  
  
However, as I walked into the office, my cheery reverie was   
shattered. There was no one here. It was just as I had left   
it, sunflower seeds and all. Hoping she had at least called, I   
checked the answering machine. One new message. "Yes!" I   
thought.   
"I knew you wouldn't let me down Scully!"  
  
"Hello, Agent Mulder?" Skinner's voice boomed from the machine.   
Not her!  
  
Frustrated at myself for wasting time by coming back here, I ran   
out mid-message, vowing to find her yet.   
  
It was only after I had gotten in my car that I realized I had   
again forgotten my coat.  
  
  
11:45 a.m.  
Georgetown General Hospital  
Emergency Room  
I hate hospitals. I hate their sound: machines' whirring   
juxtaposed against screams and moans. I hate their smell: a   
mixture of soap and amnesia. I hate the way a place of healing   
and mercy can seem so austere and cold.  
  
But mostly, I hate the memories I have from being in a hospital.   
Scully's abduction, her cancer, my short bout of insanity, all   
these and more played out within these stiff, sanitary walls.   
We should get season passes, for all the time we spend here.   
Just walking into the E.R. brings everything back, and it isn't   
a pleasant experience.  
  
I shook my head, trying to get rid of all the images of Scully,   
lying deathly pale on a cot with tubes and wires connected to   
her. I made my way towards the information desk, where a blond   
heavy-set woman was talking on the phone.   
  
I waited politely for her to finish, but I was inwardly   
screaming for her to hang up NOW. Finally, she put the phone   
down and inquired, "May I help you sir?"  
  
Forcing my voice to remain composed, I replied, "Yes. My name   
is Special Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI, badge number   
JTT047101111." I flashed her my badge. "I was wondering, has   
anyone by the name of Dana Scully been admitted to this hospital   
in the past 24 hours?"  
  
"I can check for you."  
  
"Please do," I said gratefully. She swiveled her chair so it   
faced her computer, and began searching for Scully. Not sure of   
what to do, I waited impatiently at the desk.  
  
As she worked, I felt torn. Half of me prayed to God that   
Scully's name wouldn't be on that list. After all both of us   
have been through, I didn't know what I'd do if that vision of   
Scully on a hospital bed became a reality yet again. However,   
the other half secretly hoped with all my might that she was   
here. At least that way, there would be no more searching, no   
more frenzied trips across town. I'd have answers, something my   
life has been remarkably short on.  
  
I didn't have very long to deliberate. The receptionist   
returned. "I'm sorry, sir, but there's no Dana Scully enrolled   
in our patient log."  
  
I let out my breath with a sigh, not even realizing I had being   
holding it. So much for that theory. I should probably have   
been happy, glad that she wasn't here. All I felt was   
emptiness, though. This had been my last hope. For the first   
time all day, I entertained the depressing thought that I might   
not find Scully.  
  
"God, what would I do if she's really gone?" I asked myself.   
Honestly, I didn't know. I tried to remember how my life was   
before she walked into the office seven years ago. How I drove   
to work every day without knowing she'd be there, ready to cut   
down any of my theories from left field. How I investigated a   
case without her and her science and logic right beside me. How   
I went to bed every night without wondering if she was all   
right. Wondering if maybe, just maybe, she was thinking of me   
too.  
  
Try as I might, I couldn't. But that didn't make sense. There   
were years and years before I met Scully. I must have lived   
somehow! It was all a blank, though. It was as if life for me   
had really begun when Scully was assigned to work with me.   
Meeting her brought colors to my world. And although the time   
we've spent together hasn't always been happy, I couldn't   
imagine trading it for anything.  
  
I had begun walking towards my car, but suddenly I stopped. It   
didn't matter to me that I hadn't left the hospital yet, that I   
was still surrounded by birth and death on all sides. In fact,   
this was the perfect setting for me to finally realize this.  
  
I loved Scully. I was madly, head-over-heels in love with her.   
I'd loved her from the moment she stepped into my office, into   
my life.  
  
Filled with this glorious discovery, I ran to my Taurus. It   
seemed as though a switch had been flipped somewhere. All of   
the despair that had clouded my senses had lifted, and was   
replaced with hope. Call me a hopeless romantic (you'd be   
right), but now that I had admitted my love for Scully, I   
thought it surely wouldn't be long until I could tell her in   
person. At least that's how it worked in the movies.  
  
As I drove out of the parking lot, I imagined how it would   
happen. First, I'd run to her and hold her close, inhaling the   
sweet scent of her shampoo. Then, I'd look into her eyes and   
caress her cheek as I whisper the words both of us had been   
waiting for for so long.  
She'd gaze up at me, and smile that gorgeous Scully-smile that I   
witness all too rarely. I'd lean in, bridging the distance   
between us shrinking from inches to centimeters until finally   
we'd kiss. And this kiss would be explosive and passionate, yet   
soft and gentle at the same time, just like my Scully.  
  
"Ring!" My cell phone cut into my glorious dream. I was cross,   
and considered not answering it, but the possibility that it   
was her calling me overruled this sentiment. I fished my phone   
out of my pocket.  
  
"Mulder."  
  
"Hey, it's Frohike."  
  
Dismayed but still hopeful, I asked, "Have you seen Scully?"  
  
Frohike paused. "Possibly," he cautiously replied. "I don't   
want to go into details over a live wire. Can you get here in   
twenty-five minutes?"  
  
"Be there in fifteen." I hung up and gunned the engine.  
  
  
12:33 p.m.  
Office of the Lone Gunmen  
I paced back and forth. "So, what do you guys know about   
Scully?"  
  
Langly swung around in his leather chair. "Calm down man. Not   
while we're dining." The gunmen had ordered a pizza, and he   
grabbed a slice. I was too tense to eat, though. Impatiently,   
I watched the three of them gobble a large pie with cottage   
cheese, anchovies, and marshmallows. After this display, I   
doubted I could have eaten had I wanted to.  
  
Finally, Frohike wolfed down the last slice and explained to me   
why he had called. "After you left, we decided something had to   
be wrong for you to be so disturbed."  
  
"Not that you aren't normally disturbed, but we felt this went   
way beyond your usual psychosis," Langly added.  
  
Frohike silenced him with a wave of his hand. He said, "We   
also decided to help you by staking out Scully's apartment. You   
said you called there, but no one picked up, right?"  
  
"Yes..." I replied, not totally sure of where this was going.  
  
Byers continued for Frohike. "Well man, someone was there."  
  
Shivers ran up and down my spine. "What do you mean?" I asked   
nervously.  
  
"Just what I said," Byers stated. "We pulled up to her   
apartment building at about quarter of noon. The shades were   
down, but we could see shadows though the window. At first,   
there was just one, whom we assumed to be Scully. Then another,   
larger shadow appeared and they both disappeared. About fifteen   
minutes later, the second shadow passed the window, but we never   
saw whoever it was leave the building."  
  
"What happened to Scully?"  
  
The gunmen all shrugged. "She never reappeared," Langly   
admitted sadly. "The light stayed on, but we didn't see any   
more shadows."  
  
For the second time that day, I quickly thanked them, and ran   
out.  
  
  
1:15 p.m.  
West 53 Road  
Scully's Apartment  
There I was, at what I knew to be the end of a daylong search   
for Scully. The minute I'd walk into her apartment, I'd know   
what had kept her from being her usual prompt self this morning.   
The tension was killing me.  
  
I considered simply driving away. That way, if something had   
happened to her, I wouldn't know about it. I could go on hoping   
to find her one day. If I went inside, I'd lose that hope. For   
better or worse, I would know what happened to Scully. I didn't   
know if I could take the "worse" scenario if it was to become a   
reality. Driving away would be much easier.  
  
If I did that, though, Scully'd turn into Sam all over again.   
There would be no closure, no answer to my questions. Scully   
deserved more than an eternal question mark. I had to do this   
for her, no matter my qualms.  
  
My mind made up, I shakily marched into her building. I waved   
to the doorman, and walked to the elevator. With a jittery   
finger, I pressed her floor number, and waited for it to stop.  
  
The last time I had been in an elevator, I had expected Scully   
to be there, and was disappointed when she wasn't. This time, I   
tried not to be so optimistic. However, I couldn't help smiling   
in anticipation as I walked towards her door.  
  
I cautiously knocked. No response. I could see light through   
the door frame, so I tried again, this time calling, "Scully?"   
Nothing. A bile taste filled my mouth. I banged harder, and   
yelled, "You there Scully?" Still no answer. Desperately, I   
screamed at the top of my lungs and kicked and pounded her door,   
but it was all in vain.  
  
I slumped up against the door, greatly disheartened by my   
failure. I put my head in my hands and cried, the salty tears   
running down my face. I was helpless to save Scully. It   
reminded me of when she was abducted, when she left that God-  
awful message on my machine. I couldn't help her then, and this   
felt the same.  
  
Suddenly, the door opened, and I fell backwards into the   
apartment. I found myself staring up at my truant partner,   
wearing just a towel and an extremely astonished expression.  
  
Needless to say, Scully had been shocked to see me. However,   
she took one look at my tear-stained face, and her surprise   
changed to concern. She sat down on the floor next to me and   
wrapped her arms around me. I cried even harder, and Scully   
just held me. She rubbed my back, and kissed my forehead   
softly.  
  
"Mulder," she whispered. "What's wrong?"  
  
I managed to speak though my sobs. "Sc-Scully, I was s-so sc-  
scared I had lost you."   
  
Her embrace was warm and soothing. I could have stayed like   
that, just being held by her, for the rest of my life. "Why did   
you think that?" she asked.  
  
Calming down, I told her what had happened all day, omitting my   
revelation at the hospital. I spoke slowly, not even looking at   
her. Instead, I focused on her steady breathing, her heart   
beating.  
  
When I had finished, Scully hugged me again. "Oh Mulder," she   
said. "How could you get so worked up over me?"  
  
Without even thinking, I replied, "Because I love you." I   
suddenly stopped crying. Oh my God! Had I just said that?   
What was I thinking? Nice going Mulder. You just professed   
your undying devotion towards the most gorgeous woman in the   
world in the dumbest, most unromantic way possible. She's going   
to shoot you down! She'll kick you out, and you'll never be   
this close to her again. Just like you to screw something like   
this up, to mistake camaraderie and friendly concern on her part   
for romantic intentions. At least before, you two were friends.   
But no, you had to go and blow that with your own selfish wants!   
You're a real asshole, Fox William Mulder! I cringed, waiting   
for the lecture on how she didn't feel the same way, how a   
relationship based on anything but friendship would never work   
between us.  
  
But as the seconds ticked by, the blow didn't come. She   
remained silent. I looked at her, waiting for the tempest to   
break. What I saw made me curse myself again.  
  
There was Scully, in nothing but her towel, crying like I had   
been just moments before. My heart sank like a stone. Not only   
had I now blurted out my obviously unrequited feelings, I had   
made her cry as well. I was the scum of the universe.  
  
Awkwardly, I embraced her. I pulled her close, and ran my   
fingers through her silky crimson hair. I tried to ease the   
sobs that racked her tiny frame, shushing her. It was my turn   
to be the strong one, and although my heart was breaking, I   
played my part well.  
  
"Scully, I'm so sorry," I repeated over and over, without even   
knowing exactly how I had caused this, but knowing it was still   
my fault.  
  
She looked at me, and the caring and trust that were once in her   
eyes had been replaced by pain and anger. She pushed me away   
roughly. "No, no, no, no, NO!" She cried. "This can't be   
happening." Concerned, I reached my arms out to her again, but   
she pushed them away. "Mulder, do you really want to know why I   
was unreachable today?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
Scully took a deep breath, as if to steady herself, and began to   
speak. She talked quickly, trying to say everything at once.   
"Today was going to be my 'get over Mulder' day. I purposely   
turned off my cell, and didn't answer the phone because I didn't   
want to talk with you. I called in sick; that was probably what   
the message on the answering machine from Skinner was about.   
I'm sorry for causing you so much worry, but I needed to be   
alone."  
  
"Then what about the other shadow the Lone Gunmen saw?" I   
inquired.  
  
"That was my super. I told him my faucet was leaky, and he came   
in to fix it. After that I took a bath to clear my mind. I   
heard all the commotion you were causing, so I stepped out to   
see what it was. I should have known you'd be a part of it."  
  
My get over Mulder day. Did that mean...? "But why? Why did   
you need to get over me?"  
  
Scully sighed, and raised her eyebrows. "Are you this   
oblivious, Mulder? Didn't you see it?" She gulped. I gently   
placed my hand over hers to comfort her, but she pushed it   
aside. "I don't believe I'm saying this... Mulder, I've been   
in love with you for so long..."  
  
Had she just said what I thought she said? I grinned. Special   
Agent Dana Katherine Scully, my Scully, my goddess, loved me!   
All was right in the world. I reached to embrace her, but she   
evaded me again.  
  
"I can't do this," she said sadly, almost... regretfully?  
  
Puzzled, I asked, "Why not?" This was definitely not the scene   
I had expected. "Scully, please don't do this. Don't lock   
yourself up again. Just talk to me. Please." Hesitantly, she   
looked at me. "Now tell me, why can't we make it work between   
us?"  
  
Abruptly, Scully stood up, almost dropping her towel in the   
process. However, I was too confused to care. She began to   
pace around her apartment hallway, running her hand through her   
crimson hair and muttering incoherently to herself. "Wanna'   
know why it why it couldn't ever work out, Mulder?" she   
inquired, and I was surprised by the bitterness in her voice.   
"I'll tell you why! I don't want you to hurt me again, that's   
why!"  
  
I reeled back, as if she had slapped me in the face. So that   
was it. After seven years together, the best seven years of my   
life, she still thought I would hurt her. She still thought   
that one day, she'd find that I wasn't there, that I'd left her.   
"Scully, you have to know that I could never hurt you."  
  
Her eyes flashed. "Don't give me that crap Mulder. It's   
bullshit. You can, and you have!"  
  
That stunned me. Hurt Scully? "Wait just a minute! What the   
hell are you talking about? I've never hurt you!"  
  
"Oh sure. Tell me something, Mulder- extended a 'professional   
courtesy' to anyone lately? You think that didn't sting, seeing   
you cozy up to that cozy up to that Phoebe woman? What about   
Bambi, the entomologist from Massachusetts? What exactly were   
you extending to her? And don't think I know about Kristen   
Kilar, because I do. Skinner told me! How could do you do   
something like that?" Scully yelled. She was pissed, the   
flame-red fury in her eyes matching her hair perfectly.  
  
Not one to stay silent while someone shoots daggers at me, I   
angrily replied, "Scully, you weren't even there! You have no   
idea what went on between Kristen and me! At the time, I   
thought you were dead. I never meant for you to find out!"  
  
Scully was livid by now. She continued her screaming tirade.   
"Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out that you slept with   
her? Not even flirted like a horny German shepherd, or even   
shared a passionate embrace. Mulder, you two had sex! And   
don't even start with the 'I thought you were dead,' business.   
That won't get you out of this. What- Scully's gone, now I can   
fuck the next blonde bimbo I see? 'Cuz that's how it's coming   
across, and that line of reasoning is not helping your case   
here!"  
  
Inflamed, I fired back. "May I remind you that this was in   
1994? In fact, all three of those situations you've thrown in   
my face occurred over four years ago!"  
  
She laughed sarcastically. "Please Mulder, don't. Don't try   
and make it seem like you've changed, because I certainly   
haven't seen it. Do I have to remind you about Diana? When you   
ignored every shred of rational evidence I had to disprove her   
claims! She betrayed you, and you still ran to her! You   
trusted her more than you trusted me! And that wasn't in 1994,   
Mulder; that was last year. I'm not going to pretend it didn't   
hurt, because it did!"  
  
I shouted, "You leave Diana out of this! You don't know what   
she meant to me!"  
  
Scully looked like she was on the line between yelling and   
crying. The former won. I had never seen Scully this angry,   
and it honestly frightened me. "How was she different? What   
did she do to deserve that kind of respect after betraying you,   
after taking your heart and stomping on it? Tell me Mulder,   
tell me. I'd love to hear it!"  
  
I tried to think of a witty answer. All that kept coming to   
mind was her questions, though. I realized that I didn't have a   
response. I didn't know why I had trusted Diana; it had been a   
huge mistake. I lowered my eyes.  
  
She softened her voice. "See?" Scully said more quietly. "She   
didn't deserve it. She never did."  
  
Instead of calming down, though, her comments only sparked more   
rage. "Okay, stop it with the holier-than-thou-Catholic-girl   
approach! You haven't been goddamned Virgin Mary all this   
time!"  
  
Scully glared at me. "Just what are you implying?" she hissed.  
  
"I'll give you two words: Ed Jerse! Remember him? Wow, the   
things you do when I'm not with you on a case! Or should I say,   
the people you do. You know, with that and the tattoo, I'll   
never look at the city of Philadelphia in the same way again."   
I knew I was being cruel and hypocritical, but I didn't care.   
That case had been a taboo subject for us, and I was only now   
venting my rage about it. She had hurt me, just as I had hurt   
her, and I was intent on letting her know that.  
  
Scully shot me a look dripping with venom. If looks could kill,   
I would have been dead where I stood. She hollered, "How dare   
you! How dare you accuse me of sleeping with him!"  
  
I retorted, "It's the same as you saying I slept with Kristen!"  
  
"No! No, it's not Mulder! Because in your case, unlike in   
mine, it wasn't just an accusation. It was fact! You did sleep   
with her! You know it; I know it; even Skinner knows it for   
God's sakes! So just stop lying to me!"  
  
Her response brought me back to reality for a brief moment. She   
was right; I was lying. However, how did I know that she   
wasn't? A tiny voice in my head murmured, "Because you trust   
her." Crossly, I pushed it aside. "All this coming from a   
woman whose idea of kicking back and letting loose is fooling   
around with a suspect and mutilating her body! You sure know   
how to have a good time, Scully!" I exclaimed sarcastically.  
  
She screamed, "As opposed to you, Mr. My-social-life-is-porno-  
flicks-and-take-out-Chinese! When was the last time you had   
fun? The last time you kicked back and let loose? Huh?"  
  
"Whenever I'm with you," I blurted out. Oops. Not exactly the   
scalding comeback I had intended to say.  
  
Scully opened her mouth to say something, and then stopped short   
as the realization of what I had said sunk in. She stopped   
pacing, and whirled around to face me. "You're everything to me   
Scully," I whispered, my voice harsh from shouting. "Why else   
do you think I came looking for you? When you're not right   
beside me, I fall apart. I need you."  
  
She didn't say a thing, just looked at me, trying to judge my   
sincerity. I returned her gaze. Neither of us blinked, or   
turned away. It was if we were frozen.  
  
Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Scully asked, "Do   
you really mean all that?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
"Oh Mulder, I..."  
  
I cut her off. Or rather, my lips did. Instantly, I knew what   
our partnership had been missing: intimacy on this level. It   
felt so right. I wrapped my arms around her, and drew her   
close, closer than we had ever been.   
  
After her initial shock, Scully reacted the way I'd always   
dreamed she would, running her hands through my hair, and   
tracing tiny circles on my temples with her thumbs. I was   
kissing Dana Scully! This was perfect; this was heaven; this   
was meant to be.  
  
Need of air parted us, much to my disappointment. I glanced at   
Scully, and the love and happiness in her eyes mirrored my   
feelings exactly. "We should have done that a long time ago,"   
she said at last.  
  
I laughed. "I was tempted to the moment you walked in my door,   
although I never would have admitted it. I thought you were a   
Consortium spy."  
  
Scully smirked. "That's okay," she replied, ruffling my hair   
affectionately. "I thought you were a jerk when we met."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Well, you did act like an arrogant asshole at first."  
  
"I did not!" I retorted with mock indignation.  
  
"Yeah right! ' Now that's a credential, rewriting Einstein.'   
What was that? It was only when I took off my clothes for you   
in that motel in Oregon that you paid any serious attention to   
me."  
  
"No! OK, maybe." Suddenly I became serious. "Scully,   
disregard anything hurtful I said before. I was just so pissed   
at myself for putting you through any kind of pain. That has   
never been my intention. This is where I belong, right next to   
you. Forever." I kissed her forehead softly.  
  
"I'm sorry too. Forgive me?" she asked.  
  
"Already done. I love you."  
  
"That's nice," she replied coyly, purposely looking away.  
  
"Scuuuuuuuuleeeeeeeee!"  
  
"Oh, don't be such a baby Mulder. Of course I love you."  
  
"You better."   
  
-The End- 


End file.
